I'm A Little Teapot
by Camel Socks
Summary: A pointless, plotless parody (note the alliteration) on songfics. Written when I was supposed to be doing Economics homework, cause let's face it; who wants to be a rich yuppie when they can write pointless fanfic?


I'm a Little Teapot  
  
By camel_socks  
  
After reading songfic after songfic, using pretty much every Linkin Park song ever written, I decided that it's not that hard to be deep and meaningful. Just pick a song and put in the lyrics at any random moment. But I don't actually know any lyrics to any Linkin Park songs (oh, bugger) so I was forced to choose a different song.  
  
Disclaimer: None of the characters used in this story are mine. They are owned by rich people. I am not rich. Therefore, they are not mine. 'I'm a Little Teapot' isn't mine either; it's owned by some drugged out dude from the middle ages. But I'm willing to buy the rights to it (including the moves) for my life savings of $10. And lastly, I will not claim the plot to be mine. It is sad and pathetic, and I am willing to pay for someone to accept the humiliation and suffering that is associated with owning this plot.  
  
***  
  
This story begins a fair time ago. 1996 to be exact. Of course, many argue that this story is actually set in the present. But that idea is disproven due to a certain page 102, line 8 in a certain Chamber of Secrets. So despite what some people may say, this story is set in 1996. Harry and Ron were sitting through their general lesson of Divination. Professor Trelawney, having gone mad the previously year had lost her memory and was once again teaching her class the wondrous wonders of tealeaf reading. Of course, Harry and Ron had chosen Divination as one of their subjects for that year, despite the fact that they both enjoy Divination as much as they enjoy bathing in a pool of baked beans and also despite the fact that Divination has nothing to do with their future careers as Aurors. But without Trelawney, who has proved to be an important thread in the intricate threads that makes my socks, as well as the plotline, we wouldn't have any more of these odd coincidences.  
  
As we were saying, Harry and Ron were thoroughly enjoying their Divination lesson. Ron had just poured himself and Harry their cups of tea. After all, Mrs Weasley had taught Ron to be quite the gentleman. "Don't you find it strange that this teapot has the exact same markings that were in the Chamber of Secrets?" commented Harry, looking at the teapot that had Ron had just been holding.  
  
I'm a little teapot, short and stout  
  
"The one that when you read it in, it came out in Parseltongue?" asked Ron. "That's the one," replied Harry. "Must just be one of those odd coincidences," concluded Ron.  
  
Harry picked up his cup and drank his tea as fast as a Holden tearing past a Ford. "Well," asked Harry turning to Ron, "What does my tealeaves say about me that will turn out to be one of those odd coincidences?" "Give me a moment to put on my thinking face," replied Ron. And so, Harry waited as Ron found his 'thoughtful pencil', which had been chewed down stub in thoughtfulness. One he'd found his pencil, he pulled out a photo album marked "Jim Carrey Faces" and flicked through until he found the perfect face. "I didn't know that you had an album of Jim Carrey faces," remarked Harry. "Neither did I. Must be one of those odd coincidences," replied Ron.  
  
As Ron chewed on his thoughtful pencil and pulled a Jim Carrey turn Ron Weasley (or was it the other way around?) thinking face, Harry investigated the handle of the teapot.  
  
Here is my handle  
  
Then he investigated the spout.  
  
Here is my spout  
  
"Well," said Ron, "it looks like you are going to have your ear chewed off by some sort of fierce creature."  
  
"A fierce creature?" questioned Harry.  
  
"Yes, a fierce creature."  
  
"When?"  
  
"At exactly 11:40 today."  
  
"What a coincidence, that's when we have Care of Magical Creatures," said Harry.  
  
"Ah, but as you know, we don't believe what we hear," pointed out Ron.  
  
"But these predictions always end up coming true, in a strange, coincidental way!" began Harry.  
  
When I get all steamed up  
  
"But we're still not supposed to believe them, Harry. No matter how strange and coincidental these predictions are, we must never, ever believe them," said Ron in his well-rehearsed mentor voice.  
  
"But this is a matter of ear or no ear!" yelled Harry.  
  
Then I shout  
  
At that moment, Professor Trelawney swept over to Harry and Ron, looking as angry as a butterfly whose favourite flower has just been eaten by a cow.  
  
"Harry, if you aren't going to stick to the plot, then I will be forced to feed you to my rhino!"  
  
"You haven't got a pet rhino," retorted Harry.  
  
"That's it, out the window for you, young saviour of the wizarding world."  
  
And with that, she grabbed one of Harry's legs and hung him upside down.  
  
Tip me over  
  
"Wow, for an old hag who looks like she couldn't fight her way out of a soggy Cornflakes box, Trelawney sure is strong!" said the awe-struck Parvati.  
  
"Must be one of those strange coincidences," replied Ron.  
  
Led by the Slytherin cheerleading squad, (who we've never actually heard of before, who had heard the din in the tower from the dungeons) Trelawney lifted up Harry and dangled him out of the window.  
  
"Let the bidding begin!" cried Trelawney (but still in her normal, mystical voice)  
  
"One galleon to drop him," began Pansey, waving her pom-poms in the air.  
  
"Make that one galleon and twelve sickles," added Dean.  
  
"Three galleons for you to drop him," yelled Ron.  
  
"Ron!" cried Harry, his voice muffled by the stone tower that his face was pressing into. "I thought you loved me! What about that love note you wrote me?"  
  
"Strange coincidence, maybe?" suggested Ron.  
  
"Actually, that was me," replied Malfoy. (Who, may I say, was looking spiffing in his cute little cheerleading skirt) "And I'm willing to give up 14 galleons and a pair of my underpants to have Potter for my, err, slave for a day."  
  
"Any more bids?" asked Trelawney looked around the class. But most of them seemed to be too busy trying to get as far away from Malfoy as humanely possible.  
  
"Last call," said Trelawney, putting on her auctioneer voice (iThank God I'm an avid fan of those home makeover shows/i she thought) "Anyone willing to place further bids, speak now."  
  
Everyone was still backing away from Malfoy.  
  
"Three, two, one, sold! To the man in that striking green skirt," said Trelawney, clapping her hands together.  
  
"Ok, where's my Boy-Who-Lived?" asked Malfoy.  
  
The class went silent as a manly/girly scream came from outside, followed by a splat.  
  
Pour me out  
  
***  
  
Ok, all who are thinking 'What the hell?' raise your hands. Don't worry, I'm the same.  
  
And all who are wondering, drugs and alcohol did not assist in the writing of this story, so if you want the to help me in writing my next fanfic (if there is ever another) please send me money. And lots of it. More if you never want me to write again.  
  
And I'm thinking that I might rewrite this one again some time. New plot, same song. I mean, "When I get all steamed up, then I shout?" It just calls for a bit of slash! 


End file.
